
Class ft 4-7 S3 

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DOBELL COLLECTION 



PKOLOGUE AND EPILOGUE 



TO THE 



* 33 



LORD MAYOR'S SHOW 



OF 1867. 



O rago, the pity of it, I ago ! 

Othello. 



M.DCCC.LXVII. 



x^ 



205449 
5 13 



Printed for Private Circulation only. 



PROLOGUE. 



PROLOGUE 



There is a sound of agony by night, * 

A low deep wail of men in doleful plight : 

A cloud hangs o'er the City ; rumours dark 

Pervade the Minories, and Bevis Mark ; 

Dowgate is ill at ease : — a nervous flurry 

Invades the quietude of Bucklersbury ; 

Unwonted tears dejected burghers weep, 

And pace, lugubrious, the Ward of Cheap ; 

And all is dread, anxiety, and doubt 

In Bishopsgate- "Within, and Bishopsgate- Without. 

A fearful secret has been pent up somewhere, 

As close as though that secret's keepers dumb were ; 

All that ooz'd out, and more they tell to no men, 

Was that for London 'twas of direful omen. V 

But in what shape the dreaded storm will burst 

Outsiders know not, and so fear the worst. 

Some hint at Fenians, and consuming names * 

Wrapping the Mansion House — perhaps the Thames. 

Men's fears grow daily wilder, till at last 

One rushes through the streets, with looks aghast, 

* CliUde Harold. 



His breast placarded with these words of woe — 
' ' The Abolition or the Lord Mayor's Show ! " 

Then rose from earth to sky a deaf'ning yell,* 
And crowds from street and lane the chorus swell : 
Some fear the truth, while those who won't receive it 
Say it's all bosh and vow they don't believe it. 
Another thus pours out his lamentation — 
[He had received a liberal education — 
That is to say, he got his schooling aratis,~] — 
" JEhea ! sic transit gloria Civitatis.^ 

Then started from the thick'ning crowd a wight, 

In person spare and five feet three in height. 

He was not handsome — few, in fact, were plainer — 

His name was Smith, Citizen and Cordwainer. 

He straightway on a doorstep took his stand, 

Bow'd to the populace and wav'd his hand ; 

And modestly confessing he was " rude 

Of speech," addressed th' excited multitude. 

He had a wealth of words, and spoke with unction, 

Though boxing Priscian's ears without compunction, 

Of Lindley Murray being little heedful ; 

And dropp'd a few more Hs than was needful. 

He told them of their wrongs and burthens sore, 

Of half of which they'd never heard before ; 

Said they were crush'd beneath the tyrant's heel, 

And wound up with this passionate appeal — 

' ' What ! lose the men in armour ? — lose the Life-guards ? 

The escort that the Lord Mayor and his wife guards ? 

* Don Juan. 



A PROLOGUE TO THE LORD MAYOR S SHOW. 7 

What ! lose those stalwart footmen ? — by King Lud !* 
We dote on their silk stockings clock' d with mnd ! 
But shall we then submit without a blow ? 
no, no, no, — ten thousand times no, no ! 
Then follow me, my friends, if ye be men, 
And let us beard these lions in their den !" 

Meanwhile, in conclave, civic magnates sate, 

That qncestio vexata to debate : 

Eising in wrath, one, clad in purple robe, 

Pronounc'd the whole affair a monstrous job ; 

And then, in terms of sharp vituperation, 

Ean down the Lord Mayor's coach's reputation ; 

It cost, he said, the city a king's ransom, 

And urged the Court to substitute a Hansom. 

His arguments, or sound or not, were specious, 

And, warming with his theme, he wax'd facetious ; 

And, strange amalgam ! he contrived to dish up 

The Pope, King Theodore, and Oxford's Eishop. 

The speaker's jest was excellent, no doubt, 

Eut nobody could find its meaning out. 

Mid cries of " Oh ! oh ! oh ! " he then sat down ; 

When up and spake one, clad in scarlet gown, 

Who said, despite the other's elocution, 

He deem'd the Lord Mayor's coach an institution 

With which to do away were simply folly — 

He'd ridden in it oft f and thought it jolly ; 

* A myth, we suspect; although one of the ancient gates of the City [Ludgate] 
was disticguished by his name, and the walls of the Fleet Prison were graced by his 
statue, from which, letting himself down by a rope, a prisoner once escaped, and 
thereafter boasted of his royal extraction, on the strength of his having been a lineal 
descendant from King Lud. 

+ See the Times' report. 



8 



Of ancient usage lie stood there defender, — 

His cry ' ; The Lord Mayor's Coach and no surrender !" 

Anon there is an uproar in the street, 

A sound as of the tramp of many feet, — 

Of mobs suggestive — they had heard some rumours, 

And fear'd a mob in not the best of humours. 

Then spoke the Chairman — "Hark, that noise without.! 

Go see, policeman, what it's all about." 

Exit police — returning in a nutter, 

Before " Jack Robinson " you well could utter. 

"An' please your "Worship, there's a precious shindy; 

They swear they'll bust the door, or smash the windy 

Unless let in ; if not, they say you'll rue it : 

And, please your Worship, they're tbemen to do it." 

" Well, come, that's cool — confound their independence; 

Go ! tell them we command their prompt attendance." 

This movement on the Chairman's part was lucky ; 

Dodgy, no doubt, but, notwithstanding, plucky. 

His Worship's mandate rather stagger' d Smith 
And his compeers — however, they forthwith 
Explain'd 'twas their intent their way to win to him, 
And begg'd the messenger to show them in to him. 
And in they went — that is, a deputation 
Including Smith, who took the vanward station ; 
Throwing some Parthian glances at his following, 
He bade the noisiest of them cease their hollowing ; 
And had said more, when up starts, from the chair, 
His Worship, like a tiger from his lair, 



A PROLOGUE TO THE LOUD MAYOR S SHOW. 

[He was too old a soldier not to know 

That half the battle's striking the first blow,] 

Demanding, with well simulated passion, 

How they dar'd come in that tumultuous fashion ? 

As if, forsooth, the City's streets and passes 

Weren't chok'd enough without a drove of asses ; 

Expressing, with strong emphasis, the sense 

He entertain' d of their impertinence. 

Floor' d by the suddenness of this attack, 
Our orator was taken quite aback ; 
And felt come over him, though late so bold, 
A disagreeable sense of being sold. 
His valour through his palms began to ooze,* 
His heart seem'd sinking down into his shoes : 
He stammer' d out that he had heard — he did not know- 
But thought that they'd abolish'd Lord Mayor's Show. 
1 ' You thought, indeed ! What ! you pretend to think ? 
Thought could not find admission through the chink 
In your crack' d skull. You've all been hoax'd. In brief, 
The motion and amendment came to grief. 
And so, returning by the way you've come, 
' Go, hop me over every kennel home.' f — 
I wish you joy of the JSTovember dirt, — 
And don't cry out again before you're hurt." 
Thus, having from the field come off the winner, 
He turn'd upon his heel, and went to dinner. 

* The R'vals, + Taming of the Shrew. 






EPILOGUE. 



EPILOGUE 



Rumour's glib tongue, for once at least, has told 
The truth, and Smith is infamously sold ; 
And he we deem'd had rightly caught a Tartar 
Stands out, in prominent relief, a martyr- 
Dismiss' d into the limbo of past glory, 
The Lord Mayor's show will live now but in story 
It has received its coup de grace ; but woe 
To those who dealt the suicidal blow ! 
Breathes there an Alderman with soul so dead* 
Who never proudly to himself hath said — 
This is my own, my lov'd, my native "Ward, 
Whose liberties and rights 'tis mine to guard ? 
Breathes there a Deputy so lost to shame 
Would bring disgrace upon the Civic name ? 
Breathes there a recreant Common Councilman 
Would lend himself to this obnoxious plan ? 
Or e'en a Liveryman who could desire 
To see the City's honour in the mire ? 
'Twere hard to think that men of either grade 
Their fellow-citizens had thus betray' d. 

* Lay of the Last Minstrel. 






12 EPILOGUE TO THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW. 



JSTo matter — the catastrophe's too certain, 

Although we cannot peep behind the curtain, 

Which, veiling all the facts from vulgar ken, 

Leaves us to guess the motives and the men. 

[So it falls out in matters domiciliar — 

At least to our experience 'tis familiar — 

Wild havoc's made with every thing that's frangible, 

"While, somehow, the transgressor's never tangible.] 

Better by far have stopp'd the exhibition, 

Pleading my Lord the Mayor's indisposition, 

Which made the thing impracticable, since 

You can't play Hamlet without Denmark's Prince. 



But for the show — which we'll describe exactly, 

Squeezing it all into four lines compactly : 

A few of what the mob term'd " swellish drags," 

Drawn in some cases by indifferent nags ; 

Yards of gold lace, the City Horse Guards Blue, 

An escort of Hussars, and — voila tout ! 

The " Begulars," who rode on either hand, 

Seem'd half asham'd of it : — the Life Guards' band 

Was wisely mute, for, had they play'd at all, 

They must have given us the " Dead March in Saul;" 

Since sad or sulky was each civic face, 

And every thing funereal but the pace, 

Much quicken' d by a storm of indignation 

Display'd in hisses, groans, and an ovation; — 

The last, no doubt, the compliment of one 

Whose object 'twas to egg his Lordship on. 






EPILOGUE TO THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW. 13 

Still there was one grotesque and novel feature — 
A. dog — in the procession : the queer creature 
[His bicolour'd rosettes were quite delectable,] 
Play'd his part well, and really look'd respectable. 
But, judging from his haste, I thought poor Hover 
Wish'd his curriculum were safely over, 
Eunning as if he'd had, to pique his mettle, 
A retrospective vision of a kettle. 

could the shade of some departed Mayor 

Who fill'd, in ancient days, that honour' d chair, 

And of his city's reputation tender, 

Maintain' d the show in all its pristine splendour, 

But have look'd down on Saturday's cortege, 

[Were ghostly breasts susceptible of rage,] 

"With what tierce wrath had his ex-Lordship kindled 

To see the show to such proportions dwindled ! 

'Tis true, in latter years, we've miss'd some rays 
Which lit the pageant up in former days ; 
Time was, and that not twenty years ago, 
When Father Thames took his part in the Show, 
Bearing the Guilds — each in its single decker — 
Prom Old Blackfriars up to the Exchequer. 
Conspicuous in the fleet, and looming large, 
Swept through November's fog the City Barge, 
Like [let who will the simile impugn] 
The brave Bucentaur* breasting the lagoon. 

* The Barge in which the Doge went to wed the sea, a ceremony which lie 
neri'oinied by casting a costly ring into the Adriatic. Latterly, however, thrift pre. 



14 EPILOGUE TO THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW. 

This was the gayest part in the procession — 
They call'd it " taking water" — my impression 
Is they took ivine, and mnll'd full many a can,f 
To guard from that same fog the inward man. 

But, says the stern utilitarian sage, 

Such gauds disgrace an intellectual age ; 

And when we plead for them, he answers " Oh, no ! " 

And, flooring us he thinks, inquires Cui bono ? 

What, we rejoin, 's the good of scores of things 

Which give delight to commoners and kings ? 

We met you lately at a banquet rare, 

And mark'd, well pleas'd, how you enjoy'd the fare. 

If to such things your intellect can stoop, 

Pray, tell us, what's the good of turtle soup ? 

4< But that's so nice " — Well, so is Lord Mayor's show, 

Although you're pleased to vilipend it so ; 

And there are those who take delight in that 

As much as you do in the fins and fat. 

As for the suits of armour, we can spare them ; 

Kay, oft have pitied those condemn' d to wear them ; 

Who, stiff with cold, and bow'd down by the weight, 

Were reeling in their saddles as they sate. 

We care not for the shams — we love the real — 

And miss the Liverymen so stout and leal 

Who march in order due and sabled gown, 

While myriad eyes approvingly look down 

vailing over romance, the ring was attached to a thread and drawn out again. The 
barge, if the model we possess be a faithful translation, was a very gorgeous affair, 
richly gilded from the water-line upwards, and propelled by six and thirty oarsmen. 
f Cans or cups turned out of box-wood for the nonce. 



15 






From windows dight with flowers and ribbons gay, 

And streamers bright, in hononr of the day ; 

And many a damsel, gazing on the train, 

"Waves her white kerchief to some favour' d swain. 

And still you ask Cui bono ? Think, we pray, 

Among the multitudes that line the way, 

How 'prentice lads may mark some millionaire 

Riding, perhaps in gilded chariot, there ; 

One who, to his high honour be it said, 

Swept out the shop in which his wealth was made ! — 

Think what a spur to laudable ambition 

All this must prove to those in their condition ! 

Think, too, their brave exemplar kept in sight, 

How stoutly would they life's tough battle fight ; 

Press on to do what had been done before — 

The motto on their shields "Excelsior ! " 

Most patient reader ! let us pause in time, 

Lest you should say " Cui bono ?" of our rhyme ; 

Which, therefore, we'll conclude with a quotation 

[Approving heartily the observation] 

From one who came to see the sight all eagerness, 

And thoroughly disgusted with its meagreness, 

Exclaim' d " 'Tis plain enough they grudg'd the cost of it, — 

The Lord Mayor's show's defunct, and here's the ghost of it.' 

W. H. H. 



London: 
printed by joseph causton and suns, 

47, EASTCIJEAP, E.G., AND SOUTHWAEK S'iltiET, S.E. 









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